Abducted
by Subject-Goto
Summary: A man lives in the same cycle of booze, work and rage. He lives in Ferris Fields, 2185. Rated T for swearing. One shot. I'd love feedback, thanks.


**A/N Language. One shot during the ME2 abductions.**

_Italic is thought._

* * *

Gravel crunched underfoot as the men sauntered up to the entrance to the mines. A few of them coughed and they all grumbled; complaining about wages, the guys in charge - "In their polished, shiny shoes, and their regular trips to the Citadel. Fuckers", is what they mumbled - and the Alliance, the most hated organisation this side of the traverse.

They hoisted their toolboxes over their shoulders and waited for the elevator to clank up to them. David turned as another drone spoke to him.

"Ow Davey-boy," Reggie called, clapping his soft hands together, his young amber eyes glistening in the sun, "you ready for another day in the grime, my man?"

"Yeah, right on, putting my back out is such a joy," he said.

"No need to be such a stick in the mud, you old dog." Reggie laughed, and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Life isn't that bad."

David shrugged the hand off, scowling. "No. But it isn't exactly great either."

_How much more wrong could Reggie be? I hate this place. These tools are such hypocritical assholes, and my family . . . well I don't even class them as family anymore. They lost that privilege when they refused to fund my trip off-planet. My chance for a life. 30 years later, and I have an alcoholic son, slut for a daughter, and parents who I never speak to. Fuck 'em all. Never did anything for me. _

The lift arrived and they rushed on, David putting as much people between himself and Reggie as possible. The lift then began to descend, jerking and rumbling; as the people discussed all their usual hum-drum shit. The lift stopped in the iridium mine and they stepped off sighing.

Another day in Ferris Fields. Another day of complete and utter melancholy, in this hive.

* * *

He sat at the bar with a harsh groan. Forty-eight years old and he still hadn't left this place. Every day for the last twenty years, he'd walked in, sat at the same decrepit spot, and ordered a flat beer.

The bartender nodded as he slid over a pint. "David."

"Alexander," he said, taking a sip of his dull drink. After what he'd told Reggie earlier, his mind had started to wander. Specifically to the days when he and his children had fallen out and entered into a permanent abyss of hate.

The day had been dreary, weirdly fitting for what would happen. He'd stepped into his home and his son had came over not long later. His son was a mirror image and shared the same strong jawline, deep brown eyes and charcoal hair (Of course his own was a smoke grey now). The young man had asked for money to leave to Earth and join the Alliance. What a pathetic excuse for a career. So of course, he said no. They argued. His son called him a hypocrite and they had never spoken since, and every time they passed each other since, they barely exchanged a heated glance.

He ordered another drink, that tasted better than the first. But not by much.

His daughter Melissa was another matter. Not long after falling out with Harrison, his daughter had arrived with great news. Or at least she thought it was great, he thought it was utterly ridiculous. She wanted to join some big-shot ballet company on Illium. He'd once again crushed a child's dreams and hadn't doubted it since.

She had eventually found her way into the dance career, but not the way she'd planned. Stripping and lap-dancing at the local club, did not count. Having credit chits stuck under your g-string did not count.

He stumbled out of the bar like he had every night for the past two decades and wallowed in his own rage, making his way along the same route he always did. Stepping with a limp into his squalid home, he made his way over to and collapsed onto the couch. He groaned as his legs and back ached in protest at his abysmal life.

David picked up a small remote that missed half of its buttons and flicked on the TV mounted on his wall. It stuttered back to life, static buzzing on the screen for a moment before coming to life, displaying an advert for a wonder-hoover that used small mass effect fields to suck up more dirt than ever before.

The next channel he flicked to was porn, and he grumbled something about tastelessness and clicked to the next one, a documentary on the battle of the citadel.

"Damn geth." The grizzled man turned over and pressed his head into his arm, passing out.

* * *

Once again he and the other drones began their trudge up to the mines again, the wind whipping their clothes in a frenzy. They all stopped, wide-eyed, when a gargantuan ship descended through the clouds, landing a couple thousand metres outside the town. It landed with a loud echo and they all stared, their hearts racing.

_What the hell is that?_

Screams. The shrill cries of terror pierced his ears. A woman at the end of the street closest to the ship, collapsed to the ground, crawling and crying out. A buzzing black swarmed her, and she froze, before the creatures began to approach him and the other workers.

It didn't take them a moment to decide what to do. They turned and ran, legs propelling them away, their well toned, well used muscles keeping them at a steady, fast pace. But not fast enough.

The lad at the back of the group, a new worker who'd only started within the last week, screamed as he tripped. A single bug touched him, causing a field to surround his skin, holding him in place. In a dreadful, agonising stasis.

The rest of the group picked up the pace, their muscles beginning to burn with the effort, to burn with their determination. But still, it failed to be enough.

_How did I get to the point to deserve this, what did I do?_

Next down went Reggie, his amber eyes ever moving even after being frozen.

_My god, I may have to run, but they have to watch._

He and the other workers split down the opposite forks of the road, half of them taking one route, the other half taking the other. More and more colonists; curious and scared, worried and crazed, stepped outside. More and more for the swarms to immobilise.

His effort began to deteriorate as his muscles flooded with lactic acid, eating away at his chances of survival.

He knew what fate lay ahead of him. He knew his death lay nearby.

_What happened in my life to bring me here? What could I have done wrong? Why do I deserve this?!_

He turned another corner, a few less workers still keeping pace, and tears streamed down his worn face, and into his rough stubble.

_What life? I . . . I wrecked my life. I wrecked everything. _

Another swarm flew round the street corner ahead and he swore, darting to the right and into the bar where he'd spent the last 20 years slowly dying. Fading away.

They barricaded the door and it rattled as the swarm slammed against it. He backed away, fear quickening his mind, as he panted pathetically and his heartbeat his chest.

_My children . . . my children will suffer this. Good god._

He slumped to the ground, any determination that had remained draining from his body like something was drinking it from him.

_My children, would not have to suffer this, if I'd just let them achieve their dreams. If I hadn't pressed them back, because that's what my parents did to me._

The creatures swarmed in, and the group screamed momentarily, before a single bug touched them each, and they merely stopped. But their minds did not.

_ I made them a failure. They could have done so much, and all I did was hold them back, due to arrogance, due to jealousy._

He attempted to strain, to fight the immobilising numbness that spread through him. But it was futile.

_My daughter, a stripper because I couldn't allow her to dance. _

His eyes snapped to the door, and a creature walked in. It had many eyes, and he'd only heard stories. A collector.

_My son, taking after me so well, because I did exactly to him what I myself suffered. People have always said it, even before the argument: "He's a mirror image." And now . . . Oh_, god.

His sons final words echoed in his mind, as he was lifted into a pod. A coffin.

_Hypocrite._


End file.
